


Friends in Low Places

by Tah the Trickster (orphan_account)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-06 23:09:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8773087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Tah%20the%20Trickster
Summary: Elisif the Fair has, of course, been pulling the strings out of sight for much longer than her Thanes and Steward ever knew. They suspected nothing from her—she was clearly never fit to be Jarl. But why would they have ever suspected her, anyway? That things were going so well for her was sheer dumb luck. She hardly could've been personally responsible for all those... things... that had happened in her favor.





	1. Chapter 1

My late husband may have named Erikur a Thane of Solitude, but Shor's bones, the man was a nuisance.

For every order I tried to give to help build my hold back up, he'd protest and complain and treat me like an imbecile until I acquiesced to his "more politically experienced" ideas and agreed to hold off till I could speak with the General. As though I'd spent my years with Torygg simply lazing about, working on my embroidery and filling my head with idle gossip—as though I couldn't  _ possibly  _ understand the intricacies of maintaining Haafingar without a man's  _ superior intellect. _

He didn't even have the decency to feign respect when I wasn't around. Oh, I'd heard how he spoke of me behind my back, alright. How he complained that Torygg surely hadn't meant for me to ever rule in his stead. How he boasted of how much more efficiently he himself would've run the Hold. Perhaps most disgustingly, how he made implications of exactly how I needed to be  _ "handled" _ by a man more politically-minded than I.

But, of course, I could not discipline the man more than verbally on the basis of being a disrespectful pest alone. Certainly I had my suspicions of where Erikur's loyalties truthfully laid, but despite his insistence of my ignorance, I knew better than to raise a political ruckus by jailing my own Thane.

Though I would gladly have the man's ill-mannered tongue cut out of his head in an instant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wheres my prize for rarestpair
> 
> also this is updated as its written and is also unedited bc this is astoundingly self-indulgent garbage and also i am lazy


	2. Chapter 2

After weeks of my bickering with the obstinate pest regarding the security within Haafingar itself, a thief sneaked into the Blue Palace and stole a case of expensive firebrand wine. I'd told him numerous times that I wanted our inner defenses bolstered to protect my people from bandits, and now we'd had a thief in the Palace itself!

"This is precisely what I strove to prevent," I informed him in clipped tones, just barely constricting my rage behind my teeth, "when I spoke of requiring more men to secure Haafingar. You  _ assured _ me that crime, particularly for those who could afford security, would not become a problem in Solitude—"

"My Lady, you are  _ vastly _ overreacting to the matter," Erikur protested, adjusting his robes' belt over his belly. "It was a single thief; they're like insects, there's always one that slips in no matter what. The fact that you are Jarl does not exclude you from the common thief, I'm afraid."

My fingers brushed the jewel-encrusted hilt of the dagger hidden at my hip, and I indulged in the brief fantasy of hurling it directly through his overfed gut and watching him bleed out on the steps before my throne.  _ Insufferable! _ "Thane Erikur, you forget to whom you speak," I said sharply.

His brows rose, and he offered me a knowing, placating smile typically reserved for a parent pacifying a child in the midst of a tantrum. My teeth ground silently. "Surely you know I mean no disrespect, my Lady—"

"I am your  _ Jarl, _ Erikur, not your Lady," I spoke over him; that I raised my voice at all was enough to shut him up in surprise. I met his curious gaze with a steely glower, trying to pour as much of my ire as possible into that one look. "You would do well to remember that." He still looked not even somewhat repentant. My fingers curled to fists in my lap. "Kindly dismiss yourself from the court until you recall as such."

His expression shifted from mild surprise to deep insult. "My—Jarl, you aren't serious!" He stumbled over my title even now.

I simply straightened my back in my throne and nodded at the nearest guardsman. "Thane Erikur, I do not  _ wish  _ to have you escorted out, but I  _ will  _ arrange it if you make it necessary." His face went red.

For once in his life, he was silent for a moment, wrestling with his wounded pride and my demanded respect. At length he gave me a curt nod. "...Very well, my... Jarl. I regret that you feel I have caused offense. I will strive to do better."

I offered him my best close-lipped smile, folding my hands in my lap again and nodding politely in return. As he turned his back on me to leave, my smile drew down into a half-snarl at his back.  _ Ass. _ I almost wished he'd given me a reason to put him in stocks for the night.


	3. Chapter 3

The final straw was seeing the young mother before me in court. Her clothes were soiled with sweat and ash, and the child she bore on her hip watched me from a soot-stained face and hollow eyes. A Stormcloak raiding party had looted and razed their little farm to the west of Dragon Bridge, and now, in the dead of winter, they were starving to death. I made arrangements for her and her child immediately with the help of my Steward. The look of gratitude on her face was one I'd not forget for a long while.

And the look of boredom on my Thane's face was just as memorable.

"Are you bored, Thane Erikur?" I spoke up as she left. He started slightly.

"Not at all, my Jarl, I simply—"

" _ You _ said," I interrupted, "that if we continued to support the Empire in their warmongering, that if I continued allowing Tullius to take from Haafingar's supplies and guardsmen as needed, that my people would remain safe within my borders. You  _ told me _ as such." I pinned a cold glare on him.

"My Grace," Erikur protested, "surely you aren't laying the blame for a Stormcloak attack on  _ me; _ I haven't had a thing in the world to do with the war."

I ignored him. "Do you deny your words?"

He faltered. "...No, my Jarl, but—"

"My people are suffering," I hissed, standing up from my throne, "and every suggestion I have offered to allay that pain and keep them safe and happy you have  _ turned down. _ Now I have found that not only have your  _ propositions  _ not kept my people protected, but you do not even have the decency to appear apologetic when aid is requested by the people  _ your system _ has failed. What say you in your defense, Erikur? And how am I to rebuild from this madness you've contributed to?"

He appeared too baffled at my outrage to even form a coherent sentence. My clenched fists tightened.

"The court is dismissed for the day," I barked, descending civilly from the pedestal and storming off towards my quarters. I sharply raised a hand to silence the burgeoning shock and protest. "Out, all of you. I must think." The door slammed shut behind me.

It hardly mattered, though, what I thought of. If my Steward and Thanes had anything to say about it, I would  _ never _ have the opportunity to rule on my own, as my dear Torygg once had.

I paced, prowling furiously between my desk and bed, suddenly understanding why caged sabre cats did the same.

The Jarl of Solitude, and the rightful High Queen of Skyrim, a mere puppet to the patronizing placating of her court. That thought made my blood boil. I'd already proven myself perfectly competent—did any of my court have any idea how difficult it was to pull an entire hold together, hold a funeral for a murdered High King, and fortify a capital, all while in mourning, and with the Empire and Stormcloaks alike yapping at the gates? Yet to them I would only ever be Torygg's widow—the former Queen Consort, helpless to all but the daintiest of tasks, unable to lift a single manicured finger to rule at her rightful place.

My teeth ground in outrage and, bereft of anything else in arm's reach to take it out on, I grabbed a nearby inkwell and dashed it against the desk. It shattered in quite the satisfying way beneath my palm, the last bit of ink in the vial splattering against the fine wooden surface. I stared down at the mess, sure to stain, with a giddy sort of delight at having ruined it so effortlessly.   
At length I sighed and straightened up to stand with proper posture, my hand yet lingering on the ink and shards of glass on my writing desk. In the end, I supposed, it hardly mattered what they  _ thought _ I was capable of. "I have no qualms with dirtying my hands for sake of my duties," I absently murmured into the stillness of my bedchambers. I lifted my hand and lowered my gaze: my palm and fingers were soaked in ink, my delicate black handprint imprinted clearly on the desk.  _...Hm. There's a thought. _ A slight smile touched my lips. "...Nor have I any with dirtying someone else's."


	4. Chapter 4

I may have been in mourning for my husband, but despite the presumptions of my Thanes, I was entirely lucid nonetheless. But in this case, I took no issue with their conjectures. If they fulfilled my desire for no other reason than that they thought me silly and sick with grief, then so be it: I would be obeyed nonetheless.

And, so, when I made my first demand, it came with only mild surprise:

"I wish to see Roggvir's body."

Falk started in surprise at the declaration, but he regarded me with a sickening pity. I could practically see the cogs turning in his skull: the poor queen consort, widowed so soon, wracked with grief, no wonder she desired to see the traitor's body dead and broken before her, perhaps it would bring peace to her addled mind.

"Of course, my Jarl," he said, reaching out to pat my hand. I nearly scowled at the gesture. "I will make the arrangements to have you taken to—"

I lifted a delicate hand to silence him. "Alas, my dear steward," I simpered pitifully, "I fear I may faint to see it in public." He nodded in understanding, pity lining his weathered expression. How the man didn't detect my pretense I will never know. "Even now I feel dizzy to consider... Please, excuse me. I must have some time alone in my chambers."

"Yes, my Jarl," Falk agreed easily, attempting to help me stand. "Regarding the traitor's body—?"

"Have a guardsman bring it before me in private," I requested, gazing helplessly up at him. "I would prefer none to see me in the state it may trigger."

"Yes, of course, my Jarl. I apologize for putting you in such a position. I will see it done posthaste."

I rolled my eyes as soon as my back was turned to him. That they found me so clueless was almost endearing when they themselves danced so freely with such a light touch to their strings.

* * *

The guardsman who eventually brought the body did so with some obvious discomfort. I could hardly blame him; carrying the bloodied corpse of a beheaded man into the Jarl's private chambers was not the typical task I assigned. I thanked him cordially, directing him to place the body on the floor of the nearby side room. He did so quickly, evidently glad to be rid of the man.

"Er, my Jarl," he spoke up hesitantly as he made his way back to the door, "when did you want me back here to retrieve the—"   
  
"Not to worry," I reassured him with a smile. "I will have another come by for him."

The relief in his voice was palpable. "Yes, my Jarl. Thank you."

I picked up my jeweled dagger from the inkstained writing desk, idly twirling it between my fingers as he turned to go. "One more thing, Andevald," I called after him. He turned to face me again—and gasped at the sight of my dagger's tip resting lightly between the slats of his helmet, scarcely touching the tip of his nose. "Your family. They live here in Solitude, do they not?"

I was close enough to see his eyes widen behind his helm. "I—y-yes my Jarl—"

"Near the Winking Skeever, if I'm not mistaken?"

A bead of sweat slipped down his quivering throat. "...y-yes my Jarl..."

I smiled brightly up at him. "And none need to know what I have asked of you today, correct?"

"I... of course not, my Jarl." Smart lad.

I withdrew my dagger and he finally released a breath. I turned from him to place the blade back on my desk. "You're a good man, Andevald. Dismissed."

He  _ scurried _ out, the door clattering shut behind him. I chuckled, sliding open a desk drawer to withdraw a set of five pristine red candles.  _ It is nice, _ I decided, plucking a single blossom from the Nightshade plant nearby,  _ to be regarded with the proper level of respectful fear that my position warrants. _

And as I began to light and place the candles in a careful circle about the broken body before me, I decided that it would be just as nice to strike that respectful fear into the eyes of those who dared stand against me. After all, as it was said, the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear.


End file.
